


liquid gold

by kamyska



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Making Love, No Plot/Plotless, poetic?, soft, they are very in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27677597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamyska/pseuds/kamyska
Summary: He is in love, utterly and foolishly and forever, as he presses a kiss to Felix’s exposed shoulder blade and then another and another, climbing up his neck and to just behind the hinge of his jaw, Felix’s hair brushing his forehead. He hooks his chin over his shoulder then, watches him cut the last strawberry now that he’s not being kissed anymore. He complains, some days, that Chris is interrupting his work, his hands unsteady with Chris’s lips on his skin, but today they have all the time for themselves, clocks forgotten and phones turned to silent. Their apartment is a world of its own and the rules don’t apply.(some days it's just chris, felix and their love. this is one of them)
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Felix
Comments: 20
Kudos: 127





	liquid gold

**Author's Note:**

> this is incredibly sappy and the plot is nowhere to be found but please enjoy

Chris wakes up slow, warm and content, the last crumpets of his dream fading away. He can feel sunlight on his face, the room light even if he hasn’t quite opened his eyes yet. He brings his arms up over his head, stretches his back so that he forms a bow on the mattress, blankets rustling as he moves.

“You look like a cat when you do that.” Felix’s voice is warm, too, gold, the color of sunlight. He’s standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but one of Chris’s hoodies and a smile on his face. It’s the one he reserves for Chris and therefore Chris’s favourite of all of his smiles, fondness and amusement and love all packed into the curve of his lips, the wrinkles around his eyes. The way he still blushes when Chris looks at him for too long, even after so many years.

He watches the faint pink spread over his cheeks now, but neither of them move, just watching, admiring, fond, and time is like honey, golden and sticky, making movements slow as Felix shakes his head a little, hair brushing against the freckles around his eyes, catching on his eyelashes. The hoodie has fallen off his left shoulder and there are freckles there too, Chris knows, scattered stars at the edge of the galaxy. Felix’s existence makes Chris an astronomer and an astronaut, drawing maps of the constellations on his skin so that he doesn’t miss a single one, so that he can touch each and every star with his fingers, press kisses to them and feel their warmth, the heat of them burning against his lips.

Chris sits up, the movement upsetting specks of dust, sending them to glitter in the sunlight before settling down again. Felix moves, too, comes to stand by the bed and laces their fingers together. Chris imagines he can hear the sound of it as their rings meet, the room so silent that he almost thinks he can. It feels wrong to break that silence but he hasn’t said anything yet and Felix is quirking an eyebrow at him, eyes sparkling, amused. Waiting.

“Good morning. I love you.” His voice is all crumpled up from sleep and the edges of it don’t come out quite right but it’s alright because Felix smiles, wide and pleased, holds his hand a little tighter.

“I love you too. Would you like to get out of bed and have some breakfast now?” 

“Mmm.” He feels too lazy to move, limbs heavy, time still too thick. He buries his face in Felix’s chest instead, the fabric of his hoodie well worn and smelling like their laundry detergent. “Could I convince you to stay here instead?”

Felix’s fingers come up to comb through his hair, catch on a tangle in his curls. “You could, but you would be missing out on pancakes. Plus I would much rather you kiss me after you brush your teeth.”

He keeps his fingers in Chris’s hair as he gathers will to stand up, leaves a kiss on his cheek when he leaves him at the bathroom door and continues to the kitchen. Chris looks in the mirror as he brushes his teeth, notes the forming wrinkles on his forehead, the stubble on his chin, the mess that is his bed hair. Wonders if feeling this content means he’s growing old. But he’s only ever heard what he feels described as young love, foolish in how overwhelming it is, all-encompassing, unstoppable. His day begins and ends with Felix, his own Helios in a golden chariot, the shine of him brighter than anything else Chris has ever seen.

He is in love, utterly and foolishly and forever, as he presses a kiss to Felix’s exposed shoulder blade and then another and another, climbing up his neck and to just behind the hinge of his jaw, Felix’s hair brushing his forehead. He hooks his chin over his shoulder then, watches him cut the last strawberry now that he’s not being kissed anymore. He complains, some days, that Chris is interrupting his work, his hands unsteady with Chris’s lips on his skin, but today they have all the time for themselves, the clocks forgotten and phones turned to silent. Their apartment is a world of its own and the rules don’t apply.

They eat their pancakes with their legs tangled under the table, Chris’s toes brushing Felix’s bare calves. Felix feeds him the last strawberry and he’s barely swallowed it when Felix settles in his lap, eyes hooded and lips tasting like powdered sugar. It’s all sweet, the aftertaste of strawberries in Chris’s mouth, the way Felix’s mouth lingers on his, the little sound he makes when Chris puts his hands on his bare thighs. The tips of his fingers brush the seam of Felix’s underwear but he doesn’t move them any higher. The time is not quite ripe for that yet.

For now he kisses Felix back, unhurried, licks at his lips and feels his muscles tighten under his hands as he rises up a little and Chris lets him lead the kiss, gives, gives, gives and lets him take what he wants, always. This is Chris taking too, though. The burning of Felix’s skin against his, the sighs he gets to swallow, the smiles when they break apart for air. They are his, his to keep and to treasure, each one a star of its own, a little fragment of his universe.

It’s when Felix squirms in his lap and whines into his mouth that Chris slips his hands down to the undersides of his thighs and carries him back to their bed, lays him against the white sheets, his hair forming a halo and the sunlight making him glow. He shimmies his sweatpants off and then joins him on the bed, kisses the freckles on his shoulder first, each one of them, the map of them long engraved in his mind. 

He unzips the hoodie as he kisses the last one, his hand sliding over Felix’s waist, fingers just touching the outline of his ribs and as Felix arches into it his hand slips to his back, the curve of his spine under Chris’s fingertips as he presses him closer to himself. He leans up to seal their lips again, their bodies touching head to toe now and Chris’s skin burns, burns, burns at the contact as Felix flips them over, presses him into the sheets and kisses him deep.

It’s Chris’s body now that arches and Felix runs his hands down his arms, laces their fingers together next to Chris’s head and when they break for air he doesn’t go anywhere, leans his forehead on Chris’s, nose on his cheek, the two of them breathing the same air. Chris can feel the flutter of his eyelashes as he opens his eyes and they look at each other for a moment, even as they’re far too close to really see anything. Felix gives Chris one last peck before he leans down, mouth on Chris’s jaw, on his neck, on his collarbone. His teeth and his tongue, too, leaving marks as gifts in their wake, a constellation for Chris to call his own.

Felix is still holding his hands down so he can’t use those to touch him, but he holds him harder nonetheless, arches his chest into his touch, bares his throat for him, wraps his legs around Felix’s thighs so that they’re close, closer still. Just like Chris has a map to the stars on Felix’s skin, Felix has a map on his own, all the places to touch to make Chris squirm, to make his breath hitch, to coerce a moan out of his throat. Felix touches him and takes all his sounds and Chris lets him. He lets him because they’re all his to begin with, Chris is his to begin with, the whole of him, taken, the ring on his finger a golden reminder. Not that Chris would ever forget.

There is no hurry to anything they do, no goal, no rush to the finish line. To Chris this is the finish line and they have won the race already, the victory gold on their ring fingers and everywhere around them, in Felix’s voice and in the way time drips oh-so-slowly today, the two of them caught in amber for eternity. 

They stay pressed as close as they can be as Felix preps him because neither of them can stand being apart any more than they absolutely need to. Other times, maybe, if they were talking, if they chose a different channel to express their love, they could stand to be physically apart but today, today _i love you_ is said through every point where they touch and there is not enough of it, still, to express the greatness of the affection they carry. 

It almost feels enough when Felix rocks into him and leans up to kiss him again and it is so overwhelming that Chris forgets where the seams are, where he ends and Felix begins. The rest of the world disintegrates, every sense, every sensation filled with Felix, filled with the love they share. Nothing more, nothing less. Chris’s world rises and falls with each thrust into his body, with each press of lips on lips, with the touch of skin to skin in new places, in old places, with the feeling of being connected everywhere at once. Their love overflows, gold, drips onto the sheets and trickles onto the floor, far too much of it in them to keep contained.

It takes seconds or minutes or hours, Chris doesn’t know, but when they’re spent, still in each other’s arms, the square of sunlight is looking at them from high up on the wall, a deeper shade now, as if mirroring their tired bodies. Later, perhaps, it will watch an empty bed as they go shower, make dinner with towels still wrapped around their waists, hair dripping. Later, perhaps, Chris will press Felix up against the fridge as they wait for their food to cook, kiss him senseless. Even later they will eat and wash the dishes and turn on the tv, letting the outside world back into their space.

But right now, right now the gold of their love is liquid and Chris is bathed in it, is made of it, would leave a golden smudge at the top of Felix’s head when he presses a kiss there but Felix is golden too, glimmering where he lies pillowed on Chris’s body. Right now, sated, there is no need to do anything except be where they are.

**Author's Note:**

> if you made it this far i luv u
> 
> you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kamyskamyska)


End file.
